astbourne. All conversed on the way with as much
ease as if they had this afternoon set forth in company from The
Chestnuts.

'This is what, at school, we used to call a 'lift,'' said Egremont.

'A welcome one, too, I should think,' Mrs. Ormonde replied. 'But you
always calculated distances by 'walks,' I remember, when others measure
by the carriage or the railway. Annabel, you too are an excellent
walker; you have often brought me to extremities in the lakes, though I
wouldn't confess it. And pray, Mr. Egremont, for whom was your visit
intended? Shall I put you down at Mr. Newthorpe's door, or had you my
humble house in view?'

'It is natural to me to count upon The Chestnuts as a place of rest, at
all events,' Walter replied. 'I should not have ventured to disturb Mr.
Newthorpe this evening.'

'We will wait at the door, Mrs. Ormonde,' put in Annabel. 'Father will
come out as he always does.'

Accordingly the carriage was stopped at the Newthorpes' house, and, as
Annabel had predicted, her father sauntered forth.

'Ah, how do you do, Egremont?' he said, after a scarcely appreciable
hesitation, giving his hand with perfect self-possession. 'Turned up on
the road, have you?'

The ladies laughed. Annabel left the carriage, and the other two drove
on to The Chestnuts.

Egremont dined and spent the evening with Mrs. Ormonde. Their
conversation was long and intimate, yet it was some time before
reference was made to the subject both had most distinctly in mind.

'I went to see Grail as soon as I got to London,' Egremont said at
length.

'I am glad of that. But how did you know where to find him?'

'They gave me his address at the old house. He seems comfortably lodged
with his friend Ackroyd. Mrs. Ackroyd opened the door to me; of course
I didn't know her, and she wouldn't know me; Grail told me who it was
afterwards. I could recall no likeness to her sister.'

'There is very little. The poor girl is in calm water at last, I hope.
She was to have been married on Midsummer Day, and, the night before,
Mrs. Grail died; so they put it off. And what of Mr. Grail?'

'He behaved admirably to me; he did not let me feel for a moment that I
excited any trouble in his memory.'

'But does his life seem bitter to him--his employment, I mean?'

'I can't think he finds it so. He spoke very frankly, and assured me
that he has all the leisure time he cared to use. He says he is not so
eager after knowledge as formerly; it